


Competing, Being Second Best, and Self-Delusion

by Diary



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: Background Relationships, Bechdel Test Fail, Bottle Episode Fic, Canon Gay Character, Canon Queer Character, Coffee Shop, Conversations, Dark Character, Discussion of Adultery, Minor Cyrus Beene/Tom Larsen, Minor Michael Ambruso/Cyrus Beene, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi, Post-Season/Series 05 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:16:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9670385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: Vaguely AU. After season 5, Michael and Tom meet up. Complete.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Scandal.

In a café near the house, Michael sits down, looks over, and lets out a shaky breath.

The silence stretches.

Finally, he asks, “How does this go?”

Sipping his water, Tom responds, “How does what go? If you mean this meeting, you asked for it. So, whenever you’re ready to say what you need or want to say, say it. When you’re done, I’ll have my say.”

“Fair enough,” Michael mutters. Louder, he continues, “I saw you at the rally. How you looked. You’re going to keep seeing Cyrus, aren’t you?”

“Probably not, but that depends on him.”

Michael scoffs. “Do you love him?”

“It doesn’t matter whether either you or I do,” Tom answers.

“We have a little girl.”

“Yes, and? Is this the part where you play the wounded husband? Tedious, but again, this is your meeting.”

Michael looks down for a long moment. “You’d think living with him would harden me against cruel words. Or maybe you wouldn’t. What was he like when he was with you?”

“Honest,” Tom answers.

Looking up, Michael leans back. “Is that an implication you find me dishonest?”

“Not with others.”

“Meaning what?”

“I know you don’t want to hear my words. Are you really up to hearing them?”

“Yeah,” is the resigned reply. “At this point-” He shakes his head.

“You don’t love him, and you never will. He’ll never love you, either. You both love Ella Novak. In addition to your love for her, you want so badly to be the respectable husband who has all his romanticised ideals about love and marriage and family satisfied. I wasn’t around when he agreed to turn the arrangement into a real marriage. He’d given up hope on finding anyone who could truly understand him.”

“Until I came around, you came close. You’d been subjected to his cruelty personally, and you knew he played dirty the same way all politicians do. You were both lonely, you both loved Ella, and it was easy for you both to agree no sex with others and you moving into his bedroom.”

“But you’re always going to want her, the beautiful house, and the respectability more than you’re ever going to want Cyrus for himself. Whether James Novak ever betrayed him or not, he didn’t do it _first_. He was good to you, he genuinely liked you, and you helped blackmail him. I don’t condemn you for that, and I don’t think he does, either. But not condemning isn’t the same as putting a wrong fully behind.”

“You took his daughter and hid her from him, and instead of being cruel, he decided to give you what you wanted: The illusion. Giving that to you was easier than trying to do damage control, especially with him running for VP.”

“Whether he decides to ever have sex with me again or not is up to him, but if you use him not as proof he’s chosen you, you’re deluding yourself. He’s just found it’s easier to manage your required presence in his life if he uses kindness, and he’s let go of enough of his resentment and anger towards you that he can. When he sleeps beside you at night, he’s going to be dreaming of me. When you’re in bed with him and he’s holding and kissing you, he’ll be wanting me. He’ll be thinking about me.”

“You didn’t ask if he loved me.” Smiling slightly, Tom studies his face. “Is that because you’re afraid of what the answer is or afraid of what it isn’t? Whichever, the answer is: No. I’m not sure he’ll ever love anyone like that again. Like he did James Novak.”

“But he trusts you,” Michael dully finishes. “He chose you.” Wiping his eyes, he says, “That might be true, but you’re wrong about one thing: I **do** love him. And I could- I could make him happy.”

“No, you can’t,” Tom bluntly replies. “Maybe you could have before I came into the picture, but now, no, you can’t. And if the other is true, then, I’m genuinely sorry for you. People shouldn’t fall in love with their monsters. It never ends well.”

“Yeah? What does that say about you, then?”

“He’s not mine. Unlike you, I’m willing to accept that. However, if he were, I’m different. I fall more under the definition of monster than person. He’d never let me be any part of his daughter’s life.”

Quietly, Michael asks, “Tell me, what would you do if you were in my position?”

“I’m not in your position. I don’t have to live with you or him. If I were, I’d do whatever I had to in order to live with myself.”

“You want to live with him,” Michael states.

“But I don’t have to. And when he was with me- maybe he thought of James Novak. It’s possible. I’ve seen people before who loved someone, and that someone had an incompatible orientation to theirs. I’ve never understand why so many of them wished the other person was straight or had an attraction to their own sex. I suppose they felt that, if they were able to compete, they might win.”

“Love isn’t something to be won. Either you love someone, or you don’t. Either they love you, or they don’t. I wasn’t second best to you. As we’ve established, him choosing you doesn’t stop him from preferring me. Loving a dead person, though- anyone would come second best to that. Would lose. He never thought of another living person when he was touching me and I was touching him.”

Letting out a mixture of a scoff and a choked sob, Michael stands up. “I won’t be contacting you, again.”

“I won’t let you know if your husband does,” Tom replies.

Michael walks out.


End file.
